


rhapsody in blues

by great_gospel



Series: Royai Week 2016 [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Royai Week, Royai Week 2016, just barely implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_gospel/pseuds/great_gospel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reverberant pumping in his chest is all the music she'll ever need. — Royai Week, Day 5: Music</p>
            </blockquote>





	rhapsody in blues

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 567
> 
> Timeline/Spoilers: set throughout series; spoilers for Hawkeye and Mustang's pasts
> 
> Notes: Straight up romance and minimal angst, this is so weird lmao
> 
> Also I semi-stole the title Rhapsody in Blue (Gershwin) because I was thinking blue like their military uniforms even though I didn't mention them even once haha oops

* * *

" _Your name is pounding through my veins_  
Can't you hear how it is sung?  
And I can taste you in my mouth  
Before the words escape my lungs  
And I'll whisper only once..."

– Dashboard Confessional

* * *

 

There's a few seconds of static before the old record dives into a jaunty tune. Bar patrons swing to life, many with a pretty one of the Madame's girls on his arm.

The lively music drifts into a bedroom upstairs. The door is cracked open to allow in the hallway light. The doctor assures that fear of the dark is not uncommon for 6-year-olds, though it  _is_  a holdover from the past developmental stage.  _He'll outgrow it, but it's nothing to fret over at this point._  The boy did just lose his parents after all.

.

In the Northern countryside, a grand, old manor is just starting to show signs of decay.

There is a piercing silence in the dead of night. The only music comes in the form of cicada cries and cricket chirps.

Tucked away in a corner of the attic is a woman's vanity and music box, gathering dust.

.

Some years later, a dark-haired teenage boy and his somewhat reluctant partner in crime unearth a time-worn phonograph and collection of records from that very same attic. To their mutual surprise, the majority are jazz albums.

The boy tinkers with the equipment until a smooth, brassy tune blares out. With a soft grin and a twinkle in his eye, he extends a hand to his fairer companion. She offers only feeble dismissals, partly out of shyness and partly because they both just seem to expect it at this point. Soon enough, the two are hand in hand, hip to hip, and gently swaying to soft saxophone rhythms.

In the midst of their mutual reverie, the girl's shorter head abruptly ducks down to hide a light dusting of pink on her cheeks. The boy's grin simply stretches wider.

.

The bar in Central is still manned (or  _womanned_ , rather) by a certain Madame and her subterfuge ring. Even so, in these twilight hours, a lone pair inhabits the main room. There's a hint of mischief on the man's face, but his features don't give too much away as he starts up the old record player.

A classical arrangement saturates the room, and he turns to his partner. No words are exchanged, but the corners of her mouth twitch up ever so slightly, and her hand finds his.

Her cheek fits perfectly into the crook of his neck, and his warm hand at the small of her back simply feels like it's another part of her.

.

A woman in an elegant white gown and man in a slim black tux take to the dance floor. An awed hush settles over the small crowd. There are more than a few raised eyebrows and bemused smirks when a sweet jazzy number comes on in lieu of a more traditional piece. These two certainly had a way of keeping everyone else on their toes.

For once, the pair in question pay no heed to their surroundings, too enraptured with one another. It's a luxury they can afford, just this once.

.

There's one dance that they relish above all others, though it is not at all fit for public consumption. One could argue that there is no musical accompaniment either.

He disagrees. There is a symphony in her soft sighs and staccato breaths. She finds his harmony in the tap dancing fingers across her spine. The reverberant pumping in his chest is all the music she'll ever need.

* * *

" _And I do believe it's true_  
That there are roads left in both of our shoes;  
But if the silence takes you  
Then I hope it takes me too;  
So brown eyes I hold you near  
Cause you're the only song I want to hear -  
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere"

– Death Cab for Cutie

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how tempted I was to throw in the words "horizontal tango". I'm really quite happy with this piece, and I hope you enjoyed it, too! Please review. :)


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